robothell | (no subject)

Entry tags:

sixshot | phase6kindofbot

(no subject)

Who: Sixshot, Tarn and anyone.
Where: Some place!
When: The day after prom!
What: Sixshot trying to deal with the devastating aftermath of the spectacularly disastrous prom party.
Warnings: Awkward teenage super robot drama. Also discussions of sex?

For Tarn

Unfortunately for Sixshot's new found sense of shame, the six-former's sense of obligation was still stronger. It took a bit more motivation than usual to drag himself out of humiliated hiding, but he manages it and arrives a prim ten minutes early to the agreed meeting point.

And then he just sits.

And tries not to think too hard about the upcoming talk, quietly grateful that his canine face wasn't too expressive.

If Tarn tries to kill him today...

Honestly, Tarn wasn't going to kill him today because, frankly, Sixshot wasn't going to let him. He was not going to die being known for what happened last night, so help him Primus.

Open

The giant murderous space dog is attempting a new strategy: being small.

And hiding.

After shoving most of his mass into subspace, Sixshot was quickly being enlightened to the fact that the dead city actually had a surprising amount of hiding places. He'd never though about it before: Phase Sixers didn't hide after all. Ambush tactics were for the weaker.

On the other hand, Phase Sixers also were never trained to deal with social situations gone so awry that they would actually want to hide. Sixshot certainly never was, anyways.

He quietly curses Megatron's short-sightedness because, clearly, this was all his creator's fault, and shuffles deeper into the hole.

To most outsiders, he was barely more than a white nose sticking out of a wall.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Bit by bit, Rampage backs away from the hole, extracting Sixshot from the wall like a particularly stubborn bullet from a wound. It helps that Sixshot is shrunk down, it gives him a much better grip.

He laughs loudly, "Out!"

Look if he won't tell her anything she won't know what she's doing wrong! So enjoy the nose pets, goddammit.

"If you are stuck, this Unit could assist in extracting you?" Miria will totally blow up a wall for Sixshot.

"WHY are you even dragging me out?" Sixshot whines, a pile of rubble steadily building in front of his claws as Rampage pulls. "What is the point of this? This is completely unnecessary!"

"Tarn, I woke up here realizing that my loyalty to the Cause had never been my decision to make. Additionally, the mechs who'd made that decision in my stead have chosen otherwise for themselves." He knew the politics of the Decepticon upper echelon. He knew that Overlord had the Achilles virus installed. He knew.

And on some level, he'd always suspected Megatron to have done the same to him.

Finding out he had a switch that could just turn him off like an over-glorified lamp still cut though. Deeper than he thought it would have.

"The strange thing is that eons ago, I would have been content with others making decisions in my stead." He looks away. "Eons ago, I was also fighting with my fellow soldiers. The Reapers... just offered that to me again."

"Because you need some tender loving care," Rampage says as he drags Sixshot out far enough to wrap an arm around to neck... and proceeds to give him a noogie that would probably rub a hole through an average mech's plating.

YOWLING. SO MUCH UNHAPPY YOWLING.

"RELEASE ME," Sixshot howls once he manages to get over the sheer rudeness of this, trying to shove Rampage's hideous face away with his paws.

Rampage's only response is to laugh raucously, shifting into his usual tone of sounding utterly mad. Apparently that's just how his laugh sounds regardless of his mood. He plans to noogie Sixshot until the top of his head is utterly bare of paint, never mind that the metal of his face creaks dangerously under the pressure of Sixshot's paws, his head tilting back at an awkward angle.

"No mercy for the miserable!"

That was about the point where Sixshot finally gets infuriated enough to actually pull all of his mass back through subspace. Suddenly, the armful of a dog become the more typical Cybertronian-building sized dog.

"I'm not stuck. I can step on this place if I felt like it." Sorry, Miria, he's basically just going to be moody forever.

Grip broken as Sixshot's neck is rather suddenly much larger, Rampage lets out a shot 'whuf' of air as he's very rapidly covered by Sixshot's full bulk. He gives the large dog a hard shove. Don't think he can't push you around if he wants just because you're stupidly large, Sixshot!

"Well, that wasn't polite," he says casually.

"Oh, like pulling my out of my hole was polite." Cue Sixshot pointedly shifting more of his weight onto Rampage's frame, a deep, distinctly ticked-off growl rumbling through his frame.

"Hmph!" Rampage doesn't even bother to struggle, he just wriggles his arms out so he can cross his arms behind his head. "What's got you in such a foul mood, anyway?"

"Oh."

She doesn't understand moody, just like she doesn't understand a lot of emotion related things. So hopefully her staying nearby and being quiet doesn't bother Sixshot. Or at least she's quiet for a few minutes.

"... Would Sixshot want thi-- me to leave?"

"Nothing that's any of your business."

Although if Rampage didn't know, that meant at First Aid hadn't told him at least.

It was a relief, but also confusing: he'd have thought First Aid would have happily given the crab-mech the details of last night's party. He'd certainly seemed mad enough.

Rampage would totally clutch at his chest if Sixshot wasn't sitting on him. "You wound me! I thought we were friends."

Yeah, First Aid was kind of busy working off his anger with Rampage in ways other than talking last night.

If Sixshot had ears to flick, they might be flicking right about now. Instead, Miria earns a peculiar stare.

"... You just go do what you want," he mutters after a long moment. "I'm not really in a mood to talk."

That sure was some very enthusiastic anger working outness. Something, Sixshot really wishes his nose wasn't so sensitive.

"I'm not sharing any sordid details with you, friend or otherwise," he puffs, wings flicking petulantly.

Was it Miria saying me instead of this Unit? She doesn't seem to be bothered by that stare though.

"Th... I don't have much to do," she sounds awkward, well she could go get her leg looked at but it's not anything pressing. "We do not need to talk."

So enthusiastic! Just... wow. Who knew the little guy had it in him.

Huffing in vague annoyance - he's too cheerful right now and doesn't care nearly enough what Sixshot was angsting about to actually be annoyed - Rampage continues to lounge under the giant dog.

Staring at Sixshot for a moment, he asks, "...Want to have sex?"

Tarn listens quietly. He actually listens. Maybe its the guilt about his behavior, or the massive hangover, but Tarn finds himself able to consider what that meant for Sixshot outside of the cause. Anger recedes making way for crippling depression. What does being a Decepticon even matter here anyway? Everything is upside down. Why does he care so much. Who is he caring for?

Primus sake, he feels like he's the only loyal Decepticon on this ball of debris and he was kicked out.

“Yesterday…You said you still trust me. Do you still mean that?”

Cue spluttering.

"Rampage," Sixshot manages after a bit, optics wide. "You don't just ask people to have sex with you!"

No, that doesn't seem right.

"Well, you DO, but only certain people!" Wait, no, how does he explain this. "I mean- you don't- you can't-"

Yes. That was a bit of a change from her usual speech pattern. Not that Sixshot was really in the right mood or mindset to analyze it.

"I'm not real good company either, if you haven't noticed." Short tempered and humiliated did not make one very fit for company.

"Sixshot may not be good company, but h-- you are my friend," there is just a slight hesitation when she said the word friend. Maybe it's cause of her awkwardness of how she's talking at the moment, or it's because she's hoping to not offend Sixshot.

Either way, she kind of wants to hang out with the big killer robot dog.

Rampage didn't expect Sixshot to get flustered, but he becomes progressively more amused as Sixshot proceeds to ramble and stutter at him.

"Well that was informative," he says when Sixshot pauses, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He actually is kind of interested in what Sixshot is failing to say, but he's not nearly as curious as he is entertained at having put his friend so off-guard.

"Why does it matter?" Bitterness laces his words, bitterness that'd been rotting away in some dark cavity in his mind until it'd become something formless and foul. It was bleeding out with every word and Sixshot was apathetic enough in the moment that he didn't care beyond that fact that it felt so wretchedly cathartic.

"I was made and groomed to be loyal to Megatron and the Decepticon High Command. I'd trust you if you told me you'd kill me." It was the reason why he hadn't just killed Tarn when they'd first met. It was the reason why he came to meet Tarn here, despite knowing that he could be willingly walking into his death.

"I still trust our Megatron. Despite the betrayal, despite the killswitch, despite the fact that he sent me off to fight an entire army of beings as powerful as I am with no intention of backing me up." The old tyrant was probably just sitting and watching the screen and bickering with the rest of the cowering Elites like it was some kind of racing match for all Sixshot knew. "I still trust our Shockwave too, despite him never having any loyalty to the Cause to begin with. I would die for both of them even now."

He falls silent for long moment after that, finally beginning to grasp the magnitude of his manufactured existence. It was something he'd only given a passing thought to before fading back into static apathy, but now...

"My trust is meaningless too."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 2 of 4